Blood Knights
by JamdoesWarhammer
Summary: This is nothing more than me having fun with my fan Blood Angel successor chapter, the Blood Knights.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Authors note, this story takes place in 989.M41. Some one hundred years before the present setting.  
I do not own Warhammer or any of their properties, only my fan made characters and Chapters.

From one of the strike cruiser _Sanguine Fury's _observation domes, Captain Koro Aster watched the ships of his Fourth Company break from the warp. They accelerated hard, their engine stacks blazing brighter than suns. He watched for a near half hour, helm held in the crux of his arm, wishing to see with his enhanced vision, not that of his suits. The stacks burned brighter, slowly they formed a cordon around their lady, like an empress and her courtiers.  
The domes cherub fluttered as it approached the captain. Mechanisms cracked and pistons hissed as it spoke. '_The company fleet has arrived, my lord_,' said the human ship mistress Raxion. _'We are bringing them into standard formation. I note you are in the observation dome Galamedus. I will be bringing the shutters down soon, my lord_.'  
'Thank you, Raxion. I shall depart here shortly.' Aster said, his voice calm and strong.  
He watched the ships that were now his to command, slowly coming into a crescent formation, _Fury_ at the centre.  
He turned away from the giant armour and crystalflex panels. The bottom most shutters rose up point first from their housings outside. They stopped the light from flooding out from the dome, slowly they began to crawl up the dome.  
The dome opened and Brother Agorix entered. He carried himself the same way he always did, on edge, aggressive veins sticking out.  
'My captain.' said Agorix.  
'Yes, my brother?' Koro Aster said, not used to the new title he bore. Captain.  
'We have arrived, Koro.' Agorix said with a touch of sympathy for his new captain.  
'I know, I have been watching.' He said, spreading his hands in jest to the dome.  
Aforix snorted a laugh. 'Just because you stand in Galamedus dome, does not mean you can show me his cheek, lad.'  
Aster nodded. 'Of course, old man.'

The _Sanguine Fury_ had barely reached the outer-system limits when the battle klaxons began to sound. They had arrived to be greeted by war. Koro Aster and Agorix reached the bridge to be greeted by Lexicanum Laernos. His sharp aquilian aspects were held by shoulder-length blonde hair, whilst his icy eyes crackled with barely contained energy. In reflection Aster and Agorix were different aspects of the primarch.  
Koro's alabaster skin was sculptured with the smoothness of Sanguinius features his jaw in particular mirrored the primarchs own, his hazel hued eyes hid a rage behind there calm as his black hair was cropped short.  
Agorix was a ruined cathedral. A wonder torn down and reconstructed again and again. His sun-kissed features were as much a mirror of his pilgrimages through the Mesa Gulley as they were a tail of forgotten wars.  
Laernos nodded to both in turn. 'Captain Aster. Sergeant Agorix,' he said.  
'What have we found, brother?' asked Aster.  
The young warrior pointed to a hololith next to Raxion, it showed a pair of ships. The magnification was focused on the ships, yet some features were still disternable. The smaller of the vessels was a Dauntless-class light cruiser, a savage wound had torn asunder the starboard weapon arrays. The larger - if only just - was a stationary strike cruiser, its hammerhead prow was crumpled.  
'We can prepare a boarding action at your word, captain.'  
Aster nodded as information scrolled besides the strike cruiser. It is being cross-referenced with Chapter archives, both those of the Blood Knights and their Blood Angel forbearers. As a successor of such a venerable Chapter, the archives would be well-versed in the information being sought after.  
'No exchange of fire,' Raxion stated.  
A rune chimed besides the strike cruiser, informing the assembled host of the ships name and allegiance.  
The ship is known to the Blood Angels. It was named the _Herald of Barbarus_, a ship of the Death Guard traitor Legion. Now, it was known as the _Decay of Wrath_, a vessel belonging to the Warband of the Gore-Flies. Once an undivided force of the Black Legion, now they served the Blood God and God of Decay. The prescenese of the Gore-Flies had been anticipated, but it was not a welcome one.  
The Dauntless was named _Light of Valour_, a ship serving in the local battlegroup Trojans.  
'What is the Light doing in a backwater system like this?' asked Agorix.  
'We believe it was heading for refit,' said Raxion. 'At the nearby shipyard in the next system. We also believe that it was intercepted by the traitors on transit.'  
Aster examined the vessel. 'The lifepods, have we found any drifting?'  
'Negative, my lord. They are either still clinging to the hull, or they have been destroyed in the fury which took both vessels.'  
Aster nodded once.  
'Have we detected anything from either vessel?' asked Aster.  
Raxion nodded. 'Yes, we detect energy build-up from the Wrath, most likely voids or engines. The Light is still showing signs of life, we suspect life to still be present along the port, specifically near what we believe to be a mag-lev to the bridge.'  
Aster spoke after a moment. 'Very well, have the _Wings of Blood_ prepare a full spread of torpedoes, target the _Wrath_, if it moves, kill it. Brother Laernos,' he said, turning to the Lexicanum. 'I will leave the inspection of the strike cruiser to you and Second Squad.'  
Laernos nodded. 'As you say, so it will be.'  
'I shall take First Squad to investigate the _Light_,' he inclined to Agorix.' If the strike cruiser moves, then make for your boarding craft brother. You will have little time to make your escape when the order is given.'

Brother Daecus was cleaning an inscribing bolter shells when the battle klaxon began to sound in his squad barracks. It was part of his pre-battle meditations. For him, as for his brothers, it was a focal point of concentration. A single item to focus his rage into an artful instrument of destruction. They stood around in rows and columns, like soldiers to be placed in their magazine transports.  
The cell in which he resided had few personal possessions. He was a dour man, Daecus. He did not find comfort in the art of scholarly of his brothers, his own came in the heat of battle. A pair of lumens illuminated his cell, a glow-globe sat beside his bed and selve of data-slates. A stand held his Mark VII power armour in place.  
The suit was red in bulk, the arms and both shoulder guards were white, trimmed in gold. His red helm marked him as a Tactical Marine, the white skull on the blue knee-pad as a member of Second Squad. The green blood-teardrop on his right shoulder outlined him as Fourth Company, the Chapter Badge, a black chalice, sat on the left. If he were a sergeant, his right shoulder guard would have been painted black.  
When the klaxon sounded, the assembled Blood Knights in the barracks reacted with swift efficiency. Most were already fully armoured, already marching on to the designated embarkation bay.  
Those who went unarmoured, like Brother Daecus, stood before their war-plate as the servitors and blood thralls assigned to them began armouring them in their ruby and snow armour, piece by piece. The armour meshed with the black carapace, bringing the armour to life as the Astartes departed their cells.  
A small screen above the barrack doors had instructed them to journey to the embarkation bay. A boarding action then. Together with two of his battle-brothers, he made his way there.  
He passed a small wall-shrine to the Great Angel, Sanguinius, he made the sign of the aquilia to his gene-sire, a bloom of warmth waved over him as he imagined the primarch as he had been. Then, he passed a shrine to Sangrael, the warrior-scholar that had been the first Master of the Knights. To this smaller one, he muttered a line from the Barbarossa Hymnal.  
When Daecus arrived in the embarkation, he went to join his brothers in Second Squad. He noticed that only his and the First Squad were present, that none of the Company Command save his own Sergeant Oriax. His leathery skull was pierced above his left brow by a quartet of century service studs, whilst black stubble pierced his scalp.  
Brother-Sergeant Agorix joined his squad, followed by Captain Koro Aster and Lexicanum Laernos  
'My brothers,' said Aster. 'We have uncovered traitors in this system. First Squad shall accompany me on my inspection of an Imperial Navy light cruiser. Second shall accompany Brother Laernos of the traitor strike cruiser.'  
A mutter of affirmatives echoed the young captains words. 'First Squad to the Stormraven _Breaker of Tyranny_, Second to the _Sanguine Covenant__._'  
The Marine's trooped into their designated craft. A howl of engines sent the Blood Knights into the void.

The _Breaker of Tyranny_ landed in a small bay for intra-fleet ferry ships, barely high enough to let the Stormraven enter. From there, the Knights made their way to the area which was believed to be a hold up for any survivors.  
Two hundred meters into the cruiser, he opened his vox, linking it to a ship-wide command-vox-net believed to be still functional. 'This is Captain Koro Aster of the Blood Knights. To any surviving crew of this vessel, we are here to rescue you from the Traitor Astartes that have attacked you.' He received only silence. 'Brother Gendus,' he called forth a young warrior. 'What does your auspex detect?'  
The young Knight came forwards, his hand-held auspex chiming as it was waving left to right as he spoke. 'At the range I can accurately examine, I am only finding small fixed life signs. I suspect them to be servitors of some form or another.'  
Aster nodded and waved the young Marine back into formation. 'We will make form the bridge and secure it,' he said. 'Some one must still be alive here. Onwards.'  
They jogged down the ships length another two hundred meters, halting only when red runes indicating contacts ahead appeared on Aster's helm display. The life signs were arrayed before the suspected still active mag-lev.  
Aster brought his men into a spear-tip formation, Agorix at his left.  
A boarding torpedo met them first, its petal-nosed barbed-tip keeping it held in place. The first bodies met them soon after that.  
Human arms and legs had been torn off as if they were made from putty, heads had been pulped, brain-soup mingled with foul bodily fluids. Carapace armour had been ripped off, joints shattered. Glistening-wet organs, webbing made of veins were being played with by pudgy little creatures that stunk of death.  
Yet all this, the smell of spilled vitae reached Aster. He salivated at the sight and smell, a burning desire welled up in him, both at the blood and the rage he felt at the sight of the dead and the small daemons.  
'Brother Belephraen, cleanse them with your flame!' Aster commanded, calling upon the heavy flamer equipped warrior to cleanse the corridor of this foul decay. Twined flames washed over the dead and daemons, soon the corridor stunk like a charnel house.  
'The Emperor knows their names,' Aster said, continuing his solemn march.  
Aster pulls his ornate power sword from its decorated scabbard, the blade is old, older than even the memory of great Sangrael. It was a gift to the newfound Chapter at its founding those long millenia ago. Its spike pommel carribes a small blood-red jewel, a bloodstone mined from Baal itself.  
They found the first of the Gore-Flies soon after, his neck and much of his chest is little more than gaping holes in which blood and pus have pulled. The sound of fighting is soon reinforced by a warcry from the Blood Knights.  
'Brothers!' Aster shouted. 'For the Great Angel. For the Emperor!'  
The cry was taken up by his brothers as they met the enemy, Aster and Agorix charging forward. The First Sergeant bore a two-handed chainsword, an eviscerator more at home with the Assault Marines than the Tactical's.  
The sword-tip of the captains blade met the nape of traitor, the meat and armour had fused and scabbed over. Yet even that could not withstand the assault of the charging Marine. He decapitated the traitor with the strike, then moved to the next.  
He killed another. The sword shifted in his hands to better angle his swing. The edge cut through the traitors bulbus helm, cutting down at an angle. He spun about and killed another with a flurry of short swings.  
Around him, his brothers were finishing the last of the traitors of with point-blank bolter fire.  
With a shallow breath, Aster curbed his thirst as best as possible.  
He saw a thin, rickety barricade standing before the furthest of the dead traitors. Mortals stood in amazement at what they were seeing.  
'Greetings, mortals. I am Captain Koro Aster of the Blood Knights, and I would speak with your leader.'

**Afterword. So, this is just me going to have some fun with a fan made chapter. I am looking for criticism so please give me some. Aldo, I will be referencing some of James Swallows works with the Blood Angels, maybe some Annandale, Haley and Hinks along the way. Till next time, I've ben Jam/**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

A woman stood at the top of the barricade, she spoke with a nobles self aggrandising tone. 'I am in command here, I am Flag-Lieutenant Savannah Aleysha of the _Light of Valour_. It is an honour to meet you, lord Koro Aster.' _Leftenant_. A woman who knew her Gothic then.  
Aster stepped forwards to speak with the mortal. 'The honour is mine, Lieutenant Aleysha. Tell me, what has occurred that allowed these filth to board your vessel.'  
Aleysha stepped back from the barricade and to its side, having one of her crew unlock a small waist-high door to the Knights. 'Perhaps, my lord. It would be best if I were to show you what has occurred here.'  
Asted nodded. 'Very well, I shall leave my Brothers Gendus and Belephraen to assist your troopers in securing this junction.'  
The named Marines took up guard positions with the mortals, giving the weary troopers something to awe over after their dark ordeal. Aster passed the barricade first, receiving an aquilia and brisk salute from those that could still give them. A return of the aquila from Aster and Agorix seemed to reinvigorate the troopers.  
'Please, ignore the clamour and state of things my lords,' said Aleysha, indicating to the torn conduits and piping, the wailing wounded and chanting adepts. 'Our current situation has taken a toll on both the ship and her crew.'  
Aster simply nodded in understanding.  
Aleysha brought the Astartes to a small chamber with a holo-projector placed in a small side room. The display was an old, drawn out piece used for old film. 'The priests and crew were, how would they say, classical in taste.' Aleysha said as a way of explaining.  
Moving to the projector, she connected it to an archaic cogitator, one likely jerry rigged by the crew and tech priests.  
'Excuse the quality, my lords. This is one of the few remaining displays we retain, and the only one that we have labelled as being safe.'  
A short click in Aster's ear signalled a vox-signal. 'Brother Laernos?' He asked.  
'_Brother-Captain_,' the young Librarian answered, voice strained with exertion. '_I and Second Squad have engaged multiple warp apparitions. Daemons. We are returning to the __Fury __with all haste._'  
'I understand, Laernos. Once clear, torpedoes will expunge that wretched hulk from our galaxy.'

As the link closed, Laernos stretched his hand out. Warp-fire splayed across his hands, lighting the gloom that he and his brothers found themselves in. The bulkheads were so mangled and tortured they resembled a wreck that had been left to rust, or the conglomeration of an earthquake and hive city. Laernos felt as though that if that were true, it had been made so purposely. Cillia clung to tumour-like growths, scabbed over with pus and blood. They quivered and popped as the warp-light came over them, gouts of black and yellow ichor poured out, beginning to crust over the rusted deck and wall plating.  
Laernos raised his force sword, casting light on the deeper shadows. Space Marines clad in butcher-red and pus-green stepped forwards. Revving, rusted chainblades and dripping, flakey combat knives were wrenched from rents in the old Mark V power armour the traitors wore.  
Still a dozen paces from the Lexicanm, the battle-psyker breached the brittle skin of the materium to grasp the lethal potentialities of the warp. He gathers the energy, shapes it, and with a savage roar, sent bolts of lightning hurling towards the Gore-Flies.  
Before him, two Gore-Flies broke down in screams of agony, armour-flesh flayed by lightning, bolts illuminating their skulls. With a satisfaction Laernos had not expected, he smiled. The Flies stumbled forwards, then collapsed to their knees. They clawed at their helms, failing to wrench their skulls free of their cages.  
Beyond the crawling line of traitor Marine's, was shrieking darkness. Laernos' auto-senses struggled to pick out misshapen, unnatural forms, further distorted by the quivering pustules that burst on them. Though Laernos' sixth sense told him what they were; daemons.  
The Knights decimated the first daemons to rear up against them, bolters tearing sickly flesh apart as black ichor sprayed out like stuttering streams. Laernos stamped down on one, his sharpened teeth bared with hatred. Many mortals would have succumbed to the daemons already - even now around Laernos, they rose up from the shadows of the Gore-Flies.  
Behind him, Second Squad fired in a triple knotted formation, providing covering fire to those in front of them as they pulled back.  
Single bolt-rounds detonated amongst the smaller daemons, they giggled thorough fanged stomachs as they were slayen. Larger, hoof-legged and clawed daemons came rushing down the passage. They bore flaming swords, these red-skinned beasts ran past the nearest of the hulkin Gore-Flies like savage beasts of old earth.  
'Librarian,' came the voice of Brother-Sergeant Oriax. 'Join my side, brother.'  
Mass-reactive detonated in the dozens, heavy slaps resonating with the wet thump of tearing flesh. Writing too-long barbed arms wrapped around the leg of a Knight, the length wrapped around the greve of battle-brother Kudon and struggling to bring him down into a fang-mouthed hole in the wall. The Blood Knight unsheathed his combat knife and, in a savage rage, hacked the imb apart, sawing through the thick layers of barbed fat and glimmering flesh.  
Kudon was young, the Thirst would have come to him quickly if not for the calming pressure Laernos exerted on his brothers. With a savage growl, the young battle-brother nodded to the Lexicanum in thanks.  
Bolter fire began to hammer the Second Squad, from behind the lumbering brutes, came warriors brandishing gore-stained armour, chainblades and bolt pistols. They wore the symbol of the Blood God.  
'Daecus, Aremis, Farren,' called our Oriax. 'Rear guard, everyone else, to the _Covenant_.'

Daecus took the lead of his battle-brothers, being the centre in their wedge-formation. He fired his bolter at the closest of the berserkers. He fell when his head was blown to tatters.  
He reloaded, in smooth, well practiced movements. He opened fire again, his Godwyn-pattern boltgun joining his brothers once more. 'Farren, move back. Aremis, follow him.' He said, shifting fire to the lumbering Plague-God blighted traitors closest to his brothers.  
One broke out into a charge for him, a jog to Daecus. His bolts peppered the corrupt warrior, a giant whose armour was coated in putrid green and matt-black cataracts. He danced a jig to the impacts, absorbing more than any of his fellows before.  
Daecus went back as Farren called his name.  
'Brother-Sergeant,' he voxed Oriax. 'The enemy numbers are mounting. Their foul warp-kin are growing in size and abundance, do we continue to hold?'  
There was a momentary silence before Sergeant Oriax responded.  
'_Affirmative Brother Daecus_,' the sergeant voxed. '_Your are to rejoin us in the bay, we are departing this thrice damned place shortly_.'  
Blink-clicking his confirmation, Daecus led his brothers to the bay in which their Stormraven was being kept.  
The Stormraven's engines began to flare as the three battle-brothers entered the bay. The Second Squad and Lexicanum Laernos entered the gunship briskly, guns scanning the entrance before it took off.

Koro Aster stood back from the holo-projector. The image was static laced and jagged in appearance. 'What happened after this,' he asked, turning to Flag-Lieutenant Aleysha.  
'Then they boarded us, my lord.' The Flag-Lieutenant had stood stock-still as the picts and vids had showen most of what had occurred to the _Light of Valour__._ 'My Captain Sorot, Emperor rest his soul, died shortly afterwards. Commissar Ruph tried to gather the armsmen, but you have seen their remains already.'  
'The Emperor knows their names,' said Aster. 'They now sit at His side. Let there be comfort in their demise.'  
Aleysha seemed to bristle at his words. 'I will try lord, but it will be hard to find comfort in such butcher's work.'  
His vox chimed. 'Laernos,' he said. 'You are alive, brother?'  
A grim chuckle answered him, weary with exhaustion. '_Aye, I still live, captain. The _Wings of Blood_are soon to destroy that damned abomination. The walls between the materium and immaterium grow thin there, something's happening here, brother_.'  
'I do not need your sixth sense to discern that, brother. When you return to the _Fury_, assemble the Company command. I shall be joining you shortly.'  
'Of course, my captain.'  
Discontinuing his conversation with Laernos, he turned to regard Aleysha. 'I will be taking leave of your ship now, lieutenant. I shall dispatch a team of medical serfs to administer aid to your wounded comrades.'  
'My thanks, Captain Aster,' she said. 'If there is anything I or my crew can do, please allow us to do so,' she said with a determined look in her eyes.  
'Then if such a time comes, Aleysha, I shall do just that.'  
'My thanks again, Captain Aster.'

A spread of four high-yield torpedoes slipped from the _Wings of Blood_. The first kicked the _Decay of Wrath_ aft of the engine stacks, an explosion bloomed from the wreckage. The second and third stabbed into the main body, breaking the vessel in two. The fourth slammed into the hole born from the second and third, turning the largest of the two chunks into a flurry of shards.

The point-defence guns of the strike cruiser tracked Aster's Stormraven as it approached the embarkation bay. The _Breaker of Tyranny_ went by quietly, towards the giant, heavy metal flank shields that sheltered the hanger decks. As soon as the ship entered the cruisers bay, the shields closed behind it.  
The _Breaker _touched down next to the _Covenant_. Void-frosted ice slowly trickled down their bodies as they warmed in the thick, oily heat of the bay. The ruby-red and snow-whit craft were peppered by discolouration caused by micro-impacts in the void. Forge-thralls and servitors rushed forwards, linking the craft to fuel lines. They moved swiftly, hiding in the shadows to remain unseen by their lords. The Stormraven's assault ramp slid down with a calmness unusual to such craft, then Aster strode down and out.  
Blood-thralls awaited their masters at the back of the deck, all in red, white and golden trim. Those whose masters were of the Second Squad greeted their masters and attended to their needs, offering refreshments in the form of wine and clothes to wipe clean sweat.  
Koro Aster's own thrall waited for him besides those of First Squad. As befitted his unofficial rank, he stood slightly ahead of Agorix's own, and he before those of the other warriors of First.  
Anron was young by mortal standards and his movements showed that true. He was a child in comparison to Aster at the age of thirty. His robe pulled taught over his broad-shoulders, revealing a well-built body.  
In silence, Anron raised a goblet and cloth to Aster. With a shake of Aster's head, the thrall retracted both.  
'I must speak with my brothers first,' he said to Anron. 'Attend to me when I return to my chamber. The day's work is not yet done.'  
Aster's thrall bowed and departed. The other thralls attended to First Squad, save Agorix's who whose master still stood besides the Fourth Captain.  
'Laernos!' Aster called. The young battle-psyker walked over to the captain, Oriax at his side. He looked haggard, the skin beneath his eyes were darkened and formed rings. The muscles of his face were tight, a sign of the thirst.  
'Are our brothers assembled?'  
'I have called for them now, it will not take long for them to assemble on the bridge.'  
'We shall convene later, for now rest. Agorix,' he turned to his second-in-command. 'Attend to your brothers then meet us on the bridge.'  
Watching his brothers depart, Aster walked to the bridge.

**Afterword, well a tad shorter then the first, hopefully that improves. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, will admit, not the best with the whole psyker stuff, but worth a sht. Well, Till next time, I've been Jam.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three.**

'It is said in the old texts that the ancient felines of Terra had reverse roles in their society,' said a strong and clean voice. 'The male, the pack alpha, would stay at their hearth to breed the woman that remained with it. The woman, the workers, were the ones sent to hunt. They would return to feed their alpha and young.'  
A giant in predominantly snow-white power armour stepped into the ship apothacarium. 'We are not like that, are we brother?'  
His words were directed at his guest. The Tactical Marine was held to a vertical examination slab, wrists and ankles manacled, eyes tracking the Sanguinary Priest. He had been stripped of most of his war-plate, revealing his bare chest. His plate was being tended to by a lone thrall. He had been here for several hours, since before they had broken warp. The Priest circled the Marine. A chunk of his pectoral had been savagely flenced, revealing torn flesh.  
Gently, the priest prodded the flesh. 'Healing well enough. Brother Thaddeus wields his blade like I would a scalpel. Were you mortal though, you would not be so fortunate. So tell me brother, what did you do to annoy Thaddeus?'  
The Tactical Marine took in the Priest. He was a lean warrior, his face bore a striking resemblance to the Great Angel. His strong patrician jaw with his aquiline nose, blending expertly with his alabaster skin and sapphire eyes. His armour was no less beautiful. The knuckles of his armour bore skulls, his chest bore a unique blood drop design worn only by the Sons of Sanguinius. His angled knee armour bore golden chalices, a giant one was held at his left hip, next to his holstered bolt pistol. Golden filigments played over his bulky narthecium. But where the Company badge should be, he bore the _prime helix_. On a name-scroll below it was written his name; Marcello.  
'I insulted his choir voice,' said the bound Marine. 'I said he sang no better than Salvitor.'  
To this, Marcello let out a mirthful laugh. 'To think, I almost felt sorry for you. What comes next, you tell Arael that he sculpts as well as Daecus?'  
To this the Marine stiffened. 'I don't wish to die at the hands of my brother. Especially if I knew I died lying.'  
'Well then, Toph. I recommend you not to throw such jests about, especially to someone with such a beautiful singing voice.'  
Toph nodded.  
'Your ribcage is showing,' Marcello said. 'I can not send you to battle like this I will advise-'  
'Do not keep me here brother,' Toph almost pleaded. 'I mean no offence, but your lectures on ancient felines are rather dull.'  
'Are you sure you do not just wish to go to war?' asked Marcello.  
'That also applies to the situation.'  
Marcello brought his armoured hand to Toph's exposed rib. 'If it sets soon, then I will approve you for combat duties. However, if it does not then you will be stuck here, listening to my lectures.'  
He undid the Marine's restraints and let him step down from the examination slab. 'I suggest you do not engage in any sparring for the time being.'  
With a short bow, Toph collected his armour and departed the apothecarium.  
Marcello walked to a small cabinet set into the furthest wall from the door. A pair of vials were laid out for him, as he went to pick them up, a thrall entered the apothecarium.  
'Lord Marcello,' proclaimed the blood-thrall. 'Lord Aster is requesting your presence on the bridge.'  
Marcello nodded and strode to the door. 'Then to the bridge I go.'

One did not interrupt the Chaplain of a Space Marine Company when he was in meditation. Especially when he was one with such a dark reputation amongst the thralls of the Blood Knights.  
Penitent-thrall Gaelal stood near the great closed portals of the ships reclusiam, and let the shallow words of the warrior beyond sink into him. The great mosaic that played across the doors was one of great significance to the Chapter. It started with the Great Angel Sanguinius on Baal, then his meeting with the Emperor and his eventual fall against the Arch-Traitor, whose name he dared not think. From there it explored millenia of the Blood Angels history. Then finally a heavily ornate soot of armour, scrolls and purity seals clung to his armour as a halo of light shun like a sun. The figure was Sangrael, the warrior-scholar and first Lord Commander of the Blood Knights.  
He heard a bell let out a sorrowful ring. It responded through the area of the strike cruiser Gaelal found himself in. It was a mourning bell.  
Gaelal chapped on the door nine times, the sacred number of the Old Legion. The door opened to him revealing a standing figure.  
Clad in matt-black power armour and a leering skull-helm, Chaplain Garan look at the penitent-thrall. 'What is it Gaelal,' he said, voice altered by his helm. 'My meditations are only now complete.'  
Gaelal used hand-signals to inform his lord. He could no longer speak now, his tongue was now a stump. He had taken the Vow of Silence nearly five years previously. The lord captain requests your presence on the bridge, he signed. As he does the other members of the Company Command.  
Garan nodded to the thrall. 'Then prepare for battle,' he said and departed.

The screen of the visual feed was blank, but the voice of Saur boomed out and across the audio system of the strike cruisers bridge. Raxion sat on her throne, watching the assembled Company command as much as she listened to the report. The Squad commanders and warriors of the subdivisions of the Chapter were arrayed around the bridge in a semicircle.  
'_There was nothing to be done. The unidentified vessels left their high-orbit anchorage as soon as they detected us. But before doing so, we detected at least three vessels_.' There was a pause as the link looped before continuing '_From what I can gather, the unknown vessels have departed for the relative safety of the systems gulf_.'  
'Thank you, shipmaster Saur.' Aster said, terminating the link, he turned to his commanders. 'It would appear that the Decay of Wrath was not the only vessel in the system.'  
Agorix spoke first. 'As too be expected, nothing can ever be simple with these traitors. Always more crawling out of the woodworks, as bad as the nids' or greenskins.'  
'So be it,' said Eighth Sergeant Heager. 'It means there will only be more blood to spill.' Haeger characterized the raw aggression of the Assault Marines. His mirror in the Seventh, Maximerio, expressed the level headedness to be a sergeant of such an aggressive force.  
'If more of these traitors are here, then how do we proceed,' asked Vetrean Sergeant Vytrian of the Tenth Devastators. His ruby, snow and gold trimmed armour was joined by black and silver. The stylized 'I' of the Ordo Xenos marked his left shoulder guard, marking him as a vetrean of the Deathwatch. It was fortunate he had not succumbed to the Blck Rage as many such as him had, now he served with the expertise few within the Chapter could match.  
'Then my brother, we kill them for the Great Angel and the Emperor.' Declared Aster.  
The hololith came alive as he depressed a rune. 'We shall enter high-orbit of the world, Panvell, in six t-standard hours. Data-packages will be sent within the hour. Ready your Squads my brothers, I suspect we will find more than traitors of the Old Legions down there.'  
With that, the Company command departed save for Garan who muttered in Aster's ear. 'I shall begin making preparations for the moripatrics and Rage shortly. May He on Terra and the Lord of Baal guard our souls.' He departed.

**Afterword, ok, took a day but I finally fixed out this chapter to a state I'm happy with. Not going to life, Chaps four and five are going to take much longer, possibly because of the fact that they are only vague outlines right now. Please leave criticism. Till next time, I've been Jam.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four.**

Daecus bowed his head as the Vermillion Revelations hymnal came to a crescendo. A hundred voices carried the blessed lyrics up to the roof of the ships reclusiam. On all sides, Blood Knights made prayers to their long-dead primarch and the Emperor. As the song ended, he ran his gauntleted hand over his combat knife. He traced the golden thread that ran the pommel of the blade, bright with a fresh wash. His bolter instead bore words from the Book of the Lords and teachings from Sangrael's _Treaties of Consecration_. One a sacred tenement of all the Sons of Sangunius, the other a revered text of the Chapter.  
His eyes ranged across the chamber. He and all of his company-brothers were present in their wargear. He cast eyes on those he knew best. Daecus believed that they were the truest form of the Blood, save for the Angels of Baal themselves.  
There battleplates were decorated with ornamentation and texts from the Chapters many texts, be those the works of Sangrael, Huron-Fen, or even the Lord Warden's own.  
Three ranks before Daecus, a sudden commotion caught his attention. Hushed tones spoke urgently, breaking from their chosen places to cluster around one of their own. Another cluster began to form away from Daecus as he marched forwards.  
He saw Brother-Sergeant Oriax turn to regard him.  
'Daecus, it is best you stand clear. This is a matter for Chaplain Garan.'  
He side-stepped his sergeant and saw what he knew was to come. He saw Brother Kudon knelt, head-down muttering and growling at regular intervals. He knew what had taken hold of his young brother at first glance.  
'When did it begin?' he asked, a cold numbness running through his veins.  
'He had been sullen since the incident with the Gore-Flies,' Oriax spat the name. 'He grew more agitated as the hymnal progressed.'  
Kudon raised his head in a savage manner and Daecus felt his chest tighten. The young knights face was red with rage, inflamed with darkening veins and tight muscles, his fangs barred. 'Daecus!' He spat. 'Do you hear them? Damned traitors are nearly on us. But Master Raldoron…' He trailed off, speaking of the Siege and of the Arch-Traitor and his traitor-brothers.  
'Kudon,' Daecus said, noting a parting in the crowd. 'Remember who you are, remember that these are not the walls. Kudon remember the-'  
Chaplain Garan cut Daecus off as he appeared. 'Stand aside Brother Daecus. I must take Brother Kudon for his preparations.'  
'Brother!' cried Kudon. 'They are nearly upon us. T-the Khan. He promised us reinforcements. Where are they?' Kudon demanded, looking across his battle-brothers with glossy eyes. 'He promised us. The Scars, the Scars must reinforce us.'  
Garan rested a gauntleted hand on Kudon who snapped to the Chaplain. 'This way, Brother Kudon. You have been selected for a rare honour.' He indicated for his serfs to bring forwards three other Astartes, all young battle-brothers. Garan led them away, singing a sombre chant as he marched them from the reclusiam.  
The Moripatris. The Mass of Doom. These four were now open to the Death Company. The Black Rage had them now.  
Watching their battle-brother be marched away, the Second Squad collected their wargear before departing.

The Blood Knights descended on the world of Kraaien in force. Gunships, transports and interceptors streaked across the sky before descending. The landing was a well-practiced routine to the knights. First; the heavy armour and prefab fortifications were set down around the perimeter, Second, the knights themselves arrived in force. Finally, the ammunition and spare parts were brought down in order of necessity.  
The force of the landing represented much of the Companies armoured forces. Baal-Predators sat besides Rhino and Razorback transports. A lone Vindicator sat aligned with a pair of flat-topped angular ferrocrete bunkers manned by gun-servitors.  
A smaller contingent of the Company armour remained on the _Fury_, ready to be deployed when needed, as were the warriors of Eighth Squad and the Death Company and Dreadnoughts.  
At the centre of the Blood Knights encampment, the Thunderhawk _Crimson Promise_ played the role of command centre.  
Aster stood with those specialist officers his company possessed, save for Brother-Chaplain Garan, who attended to the Death Company.  
'Brother Laernos, what have you found in the archives?' He asked.  
The young Librarian gave his captain a wry look. 'Little more recent than the third century of this millenia, my captain. This world serves little more purpse than as a stable lane for merchants and Rogue Traders. The last census is at best an estimate, ranging between twelve and sixteen million.'  
Aster nodded. 'Very well, our outriders have found a small hamlet three kilometers east. I have given them permission to investigate. I shall lead a further force to the nearest city, one named Hem's Fulcrum.'  
He gave a rune to the cartholige of each brother present, indicating the city.  
'Prepare your squads, we have the Emperor's work to do.'

Koro Aster rode at the head of the Blood Knights, his ruby-and-snow Rhino's engines chugging with barely contained energies. They could have gone faster, but Aster would not waste degrading engines for a few minutes less wasted in the back of a Rhino.  
Two more Rhino's road with his own, bearing Laernos and Second Squad and Marcello with Tenth. The Baal-pattern Predator _Encarmine Inferno_ road behind them, flamestorm cannon and heavy flamers ready for any threat that may approach.  
'_Brother Captain_,' came the voice of Brother Barbgen, the senior most of his outriders and second-in-command of Seventh Squad. '_I am reporting heavy enemy presence in the hamlet. I count eight of them. The civilians are dead or fled. We are requesting immediate reinforcements__._'  
'Hold true, Barbgen. Assistance shall arrive shortly.'  
He turned his vox to communicate with the Third Squad. 'Brother, our outriders are currently under attack in the hamlet. Brother Barbgen requests immediate assistance.'  
A rune told Aster his message had been received and acknowledged.  
The journey continued in silence. No vox-transmissions had been picked up from across the planet. That may be expected for civilian networks in the event of an invasion. But for the planetary defence forces to remain silent, that posed a worrying question.  
The Rhino stopped with a rumble. Stepping down the ramp, Aster looked at the giant ivory gate of Hem's Fulcrum.  
The pale light of the sun gave the snow-coloured armour plates an azure hue.  
The thirty-three battle-brothers of Fourth Company broke up into a cordon around the gate. 'Brother Daecus,' called Brother-Sergeant Oriax. 'Bring down that gate.'  
As commanded, the named knight unclamped a melta bomb from him and set it on the gate. For all its grandeur, the gate was a flimsy one. Much of it melted under the heat of the melta before finally falling to the city-floor beyond.  
The _Encarmine Inferno_ entered first, Aster, followed by Agorix and First Squad, followed. The street beyond was a parade ground, marble-lined for over a mile in length. Travelling down three hundred meters, Aster then indicated for Marcello's and Laernos' units to break off.  
At the end of the parade ground street, a stout monument of carved bone greeted the Blood Knights. The symbol of the Blood God sat behind a lake of green liquid.  
'Belephraen!' Ordered Agorix. 'Burn it from my sights.'  
The warrior with the heavy flamer stepped forwards and flame sprayed out. It would be better to use his fuel than that of the Predators, it would in all likelihood see heavier combat.  
'Secure this area brothers. Gendus Belephran, check the homes to our left, Agorix with me to the right. The rest of you overwatch.'  
Aster walked towards the nearest house, if such it could be called. It was a squat home, one which would house a small family at most. The entire area around the icon followed that layout.  
'Aster,' Agorix said. 'Do you believe they will still be here?'  
The Fourth Captain shook his head. 'No. I do believe that they will soon be joining us. Their gods may have ruined their minds, but their battle-hunger will bring them here all the same.'  
'Captain Aster!' calls Gendus with his hand wrapped around his auspex. 'I have something straight ahead of us. Contacts!'  
Then the missile strike began.

**Afterword, well, this was a fun chapter to write. Really enjoyed it, hope you all enjoy it just as much. Ad anlso, did you spot the James Swallow reference? Till next time, I've been Jam.**


	5. Chapter 5

Daecus raised his bolter instinctively, the inscriptions on it catching in the light. They were good words, words that drove him. In most instances, the scripture would have been insignificant to him, but these words were ones which any Blood Knight would feel driven by.  
The distant roar of missiles passed through the empty city. Daecus, like his squadmates and the young battle-psyker, dove sideways into cover.  
Not a moment later, bolter fire ran down the street. Aremis' left shoulder was clipped by a bolt-round, sending his dive into a staggered lunge.  
'Contacts forwards,' informed Oriax. 'Brothers Daecus and Farren, provide covering fire as we flank.'  
'Affirmative brother-sergeant,' came Daecus terse reply. He levelled his boltgun at the source of the bolter-fire and pulled the trigger into him.

The missiles dropped in front of Aster and towards the houses. Noting this, he brought himself towards the Predator as his battle-brothers braced themselves. A missile impacted the side of the _Inferno_, crumpling as it did so. Observing this Agorix boxed those present in the city. 'Enemy are employing dud- and high-yield munitions.'  
Fires bloomed. Incendiary munitions now mixed in with those from the start of the bombardment. Aster's lips curled in anticipation. He was done waiting for the blood of his twisted enemies to flow. The missiles left trails in the clear sky. Following them, Aster saw where they led. A flat-roofed hab-block not a hundred meters from his position housed a quartet of two-manned missiles launchers, whilst a building on either side bore a mortar each.  
'Pull back the tank,' he commanded. 'Down the road quickly. Forwards brothers!'  
Aster stood and ran, power sword drawn and held two-handed. Agorix followed his captain, eviscerator roaring like an ork charge. The battle-brothers of First Squad followed their warlords, Belephraen at their back as his heavy flamer made his run seem lame.  
As Koro Aster neared the closest of the buildings, a hulking warrior in the colours of the Gore-Flies barred a power sword of his own.  
'Show me your blood, make swords with me, traitor!'  
He moved swiftly and struck his opponent with a palm-punch that staggered him. Aster spun in place and used his sword to cleave the haft of his enemies blade. Following through, Aster struck the traitor again, this time with the pommel of his blade. The traitor dropped, his face a red mask of ruined bone.  
He marched into the house, he heard Agorix kill the traitor with his oversized blade as he marched to the flat-roof.  
Aster heard another traitor come from the bottom of the hab. He shifted as a wicked barbed knife blade scrapped at his power pack. Reacting with expert ease, the captain reversed his blade grip and thrust backwards. The sword ran through his would-be-killer and he pulled it back uncaring of his kill.  
Coming up to the roof, Aster examined the three traitors that awaited him. They numbered three, the first two manned the missile launcher, one the loader, the other the shooter. The third was a champion of sorts, he brandished a chainaxe and lunged.  
Stepping back, the chainaxe dug a rent in the captain's chestplate. In turn, the power sword made a horizontal slash. Aster moved with a grace of purest death, he decapitated the champion.  
The scent of blood brought a flare of heat to Aster. He felt the shallow pain of his fangs extending, catching his tongue and letting coppery blood fill his mouth.  
The Gore-Fly who had been loading the weapon turned to face the young captain, brandishing a combat knife and bolt pistol. As he raised the pistol, Aster flunk his sword. Before he could pull the trigger, the power sword struck him squarely in the chest.  
The last of the three died to a bolt-round to the back of his head.  
Putrid blood ran in streams. Not even the Red Thirst was able to force him into taking it.  
'Brothers, report.'  
One by one, his battle-brothers answered him. Brother Volaris was dead, bored out by a melta gun. Ashikha was wounded, a mass-reactive had ruined his helm. Both would be attended to by Marcello later.  
'_Inferno_, do you still survive?'  
The response from the crippled Marine who drove the Predator was a harsh chuckle over the vox. '_Aye Captain Aster, I still serve the Emperor_.'  
He received reports from Laernos and Marcello then. Both speaking of similar ambushes by the Gre-Flies. Two of the Devastators were dead, one little more than a puddle of molten armour and oozing flesh. The others geen-seed had been salvaged by the Sanguinary Priest.  
'Whatever is here will take more than us to dislodge them. Agorix,' he said, turning to the First Sergeant. 'Have Karos bring the Fourth with him. I want this area locked down immediately.'  
With a nod, Agorix set about his work.  
A vox-chime caught Aster's attention. It was from Barbgen.  
'_My captain, the Gore-Flies are dead. Do we continue the search for any of the citizens_?'  
'Negative Brother Barbgen, I want you to return to the encampment. From there you and your outriders are to secure the cordon.'  
A sub-vocal chime gave the warriors affirmation.  
'_Brother-Captain_,' came the voice of Marcello. '_We are approaching you from the rear. Where do you need us_?'  
'Cover the rooftops. Hold here until you are relieved by Karos and Fourth Squad.'  
Leaving the Tenth to take the positions of the First Squad, Aster and his brothers head off deeper into the city with the _Encarmine Inferno__._ They marched down a long broken road before taking a turn. The Gore-Flies had set up a barricade. The Inferno came forwards, its flamestorm cannon giving form to rage. It's flames could immolate, burn and melt. When it struck the barricade, it did so with the power of the razor-winds of the Great Nickle Coast.  
Beyond the barricade, dishevelled buildings and jagged pathways split off from the road. The old part of Fulcrum was a ruin. The paths were pathway sections, the homes shells of deprivation even before the traitor's had attacked.  
A new plaza appeared, at its heart a crumbled statue of an already half-forgotten hero. From there, the pathways broke up into a score.  
'We can not all go down the same path,' Aster said. 'Brother, announce our presence.'  
The Predator let out a new flame. It went down the centre most pathway and burnt shanty houses to the ground.  
It also flooded the pathway with the rabble of the Gore-Flies. They too are cooked.  
Racing down the pathway to the city centre. Finally, they reach an area of strewn out rubble. At its centre was a tower of black metal, defaced by skull trophies and dark glyphes.  
At the other end of the tower, Laernos and Second Squad battled against the traitors.  
'Laernos!' the captain called out. 'What are you doing here?'  
The battle-psyker decapitated a traitor as he spoke. 'We tried reaching you, but the enemy are more cunning than we believed.' He extended his fist and struck another with a bolt of red lightning. 'They are making their escape. We cannot let them flee, not after what they have done here.'  
With a nod, Aster called in for an intercept.  
'You heard the Lexicanum,' Agorix shouted. 'Into them brothers. Their cowardice shows their weakness in all its forms. They will butcher the weak, but when met by a worthy foe they run!'  
The First Sergeant swung his eviscerator two-handed bringing it two bear against the closest of the Gore-Flies.  
'Onwards!' shouted Koro Aster, setting off towards the rubble. Agorix and the First followed him into the crazed maelstrom of the battle, seeing that the majority of the Gore-Flies had not turned to engage this new threat. The speed and ferocity of their assault caught the traitor's comply off guard.  
A status rune from the intercept confirmed the destruction of the enemy craft.  
The Red Thirst kindled in Aster's chest. A warm bloom of savagery glowerin. He felt the pull to give up his command and fight with wild abandon. To fight with such abandon would grant his reprise from the hunger, but it would also be his downfall.  
Aster disemboweled his first opponent, and waded into the rest with a blur of speed that would have done any warrior proud. Bolt and chain smacked against his armour, but now hit true. The wounds he had sustained drove him to greater heights of violence.  
Aster swept down with his blade. The traitor managed to move at the last minute, the blow instead struck his pauldron with a crackle of thunder. Aster panted as he pulled back. He dropped his shoulders and rammed his blade onwards. The Fly stumbled. Aster hit down and felt the impact through his armour. He struck his opponent twice after that. Leaving him as a bloody mound.  
'Forwards,' said Aster; and they marched forwards, towards the black tower and Laernos.  
'For Sanguinius!' The shout went out as they slaughtered the Gore-Flies.  
The last of the Flies died with a strangled gurgle as Brother Daecus cut his vocal cords. A good kill. If not clean.  
'Come brothers,' Aster said. 'We rendezvous with our brothers then return to the encampment. There is nothing to be found here.'****

**Afterword, well then, this sure was fun. I wonder what those filthy Gore-Flies could have been doing skulking about in that city. I know, HERESY! Well, I hope you all enjoyed this. Till next time, I've been Jam.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six.**

Yellow-blue flames blinked distantly from the Blood Knights Fourth Company fleet. Slowly, ponderously, vessels rose up above the system-plain. They turned centre wards as they peaked, heading towards the small fleet. Slowly, the fleet of the Gore-Flies charged.

As Koro Aster entered the plaza, he noted that Sanguinary Priest Marcello was speaking with standard-bearer Karos. In one hand he bore the Company standard.  
The standard was of a black grail on a field of red, crossed by a pair of blood-dripping white swords. In the two upper corners square with two-rowed two-columned green blood drops were arrayed. At the top of the standard, an auric aquillia stood. The other hand was wrapped around the pommel of his power sword.  
His Mark IV helm was mag-locked next to his holstered bolt pistol. His face was beautiful, his eyes were dark topaz, held in sun-kissed skin which was drawn about aquilian features, held by shoulder-length auburn hair.  
'Brother-Captain,' called over Koras with his strong voice. 'Where do you need me and the Fourth?'  
'It would seem that your presence here is wasted, my apologise, brother. Tell me, what occurs at our encampment.'  
The standard-bearer chuckled. 'It goes according to our brothers in the Armouries timetable. Though Brother Korbel is annoyed that you sent me instead of him.'  
Agorix chuckled his response. 'Let our young champion fuss, it may teach him some humility.'  
The Fourth's Champion, Korbel, was a young blade. An expert swordsman but a hot-headed one at that.  
'I do not believe it wise of us to remain here,' Aster said 'Once we return to the encampment we will retrieve it before returning to the Fury. From there we can better engage the enemy still present. If any remain at all.'  
'Very well then, I shall relay this to Korbel and Raxion,' Laernos said.  
With a nod, Aster led First Squad back to their Rhino.

Chaplain Garan knelt before the Emperor of Mankind. His skull-helm, crozius and bolt pistol sat upon a large, soft velvet cushion. His head was bowed as he did not deem himself worthy of gazing at His Imperial Majesty this day. How could he when he had the duty of leading his brothers into one final battle?  
His hands were folded in the sign of the aquila over his twin hearts. One had the beat of all humans, the other, an augmetic replacement, seemed to struggle in comparison.  
'_Deus Ave Imperator__._' He said the last words of the litany.  
Rising, he placed a piece of golden-white cloth over the Emperor's face, hiding His divinity from Garan.  
Replacing the skull-helm, a chim at the sub-reclusiums door drew his attention. 'Enter.'  
The thrall that entered was the mute Gaelal. He sign-spoke. '_My apologies lord Garan. But I am to report that Honoured Captain Korr Aster is to rejoin us shortly_.'  
'Very well Gaelal. You may go now.'  
With a bow, Gaelal departed.

Aster strode across to the command Thunderhawk. Waiting for him was Fourth Companies Champion, Korbel.  
Korbel was a tall warrior, with a lean blade of a body beneath his gilded power armour. He was young, for his rank, but he had earned it the hard way, as his augmetic arm attested. It was a fine thing, artfully wrought and without the glitches which commonly afflicted such devices. Words from the Book of the lords were written in ruby, the words of Sangrael in snow and the verses from a score of other texts ran in black across the panels of his forearm. The augmetic hand was wrapped around the pommel of the champion's blade, Perdition, while his flesh arm was mag-locked to a storm shield.  
'Brother-Captain Aster,' Korbel said, saluting by raising his flesh-fist to his chest.  
'Brother Korbel, I see that we are nearly ready to depart.'  
Korbel nodded. 'Our blood-thralls and servitors work quickly. I am told that once your transports are stowed away we will be ready to depart.'  
As the champion spoke, a Thunderhawk and a pair of Stormraven gunships pierced the sporadic cloud cover. 'Barbgen informed me that the village was devastated. As was your city,' an edge of anger hung to Korbel's words. 'A shame I was not present for either. It would have been good to bleed the traitors with Perdition.'  
'No,' Aster said sharply. 'That blade should not be sullied, so, they were nothing but maggots and rage-fed mad-men.'  
Korbel nodded, somewhat satisfied. 'I am sure we shall find more so. After all, their fleed fled, did it not?'  
'You always were one thirsting for battle,' Agorix said. 'A shame, I was sure you had what it would take to join the Guard.'  
'Which one?'  
The question to many would seem strange, compared to the other Chapters of the Blood, the Knights maintained two units of guard. One the Sanguinary, none present with the Fourth, and that of the Cryptian Guard, those that guarded the crypt in which all dead Lord Commanders of the Knights resided upon death.  
'Sanguinary, black never suited you well.'  
They laughed at that. 'True, true. But it would give me time to read more texts.'  
'If not a blade, then a crozius.' Agorix jokes.  
The First Sergeant had once been one of the champions instructors when he had first been inducted. Good times, better times.  
'Either way, lad, you would be at our head.'  
As one of the Stormraven gunships sat down, Tenth Squad with Marcello marched to it. As Second and Laernos did to the second. 'We can take the _Crimson Promise_, before it begins carrying out its transport duty.'  
Leading his brothers, Koro Aster marched aboard the former command centre.

The warship surfaced from the night. But by bit her shape grew, jagged prow and gun-serrated flanks emerged from the void. Shadows clung to her butcher-red recesses best they could. The sun caught her flanks, lighting the putrid trim in all its sickly sweet shades. She had been born as the _Skinner_, a strike cruiser of the World Eaters. Though her allegiance had changed, her name had not. Ulcers clung to her turrets as pus-blood pooled in the scars that marked ger flanks.  
Now, she went to make new scars as she fell upon the Blood Knights fleet. Her smaller kin followed in her wake.

The Gladius-class vessel _Nine Tears_ spotted the traitor strike cruiser first. It turned, bringing its macrocannon batteries to bear against the approaching ship.  
Firing, the volley was absorbed by the larger vessels void shields.  
At this time, the other traitor vessels were also detected on ultra-long-range auspex. The Space Marine fleet turned to regard them all as one.

Chaplain Garan marched to the bridge of the _Sanguine Fury_, on a display screen, he saw that an incoming message from Aster was being sent through.  
'_Raxion, what is happening_?'  
The mortal master of the strike cruiser turned from the crew to Garan and spoke with a nod. 'We are being engaged by an enemy fleet, led by a strike cruiser named as Skinner.'  
There was a pause before Aster said. '_The Gore-Flies named their vessel the _skinner?'  
'So it would seem,' Raxion said. 'It is an awful one.  
'What is the status of the battle?'  
Raxion paused to look at a data-slate before speaking. 'We are currently in a stand-still with the enemy vessels. But one of our own, the Nine Tears, is soon to be overwhelmed unless we act immediately.'  
Promptly, Garan spoke up. 'I would volunteer my services along with that of the Death Company to this task. We can board the enemy cruiser using one of our torpedoes, from there we may be able to reach the bridge.'  
'_Garan, tell me this brother. How likely is your success_?'  
'It is unlikely. But I would also ask to awaken the Ancients.' The Chaplain spoke of the three Dreadnoughts aboard the _Fury_. One, Zorael, was lost to the Rage. Two others, Furioso Rydae and Venerable Barben where not.  
'_If Techmarine Marneus agrees, then Zorael may be committed to this action_.'  
'Then I shall go and make the necessary preparations, Captain Aster.'  
With that, Garan departed.

**Afterword, man I am on a role with these. Possibly due to the excessive amunt of tea I drink. Well, Till next time, I have been Jam.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven.**

Telloch Monrac stood on the _Skinner's_ command deck and watched reports run down phosphor-bright readouts. The mid-section of the lower decks and corridors wrang out with the sounds of weapon-fire and mortal cries. Alarm klaxons and warning runes blinked and cried, adding to the distant, heavy thud of the weapon batteries. Warning lights cast entire deck sections in livid shades of black-and-red. The croaking, hoof-legged and goat-jawed mutant crew made varied reports as he listened to them.  
'Internal weapon systems inoperable. Enemy forces have breach spinal- Batteries A and B have been silenced.' On and on they went.  
'Warp take them,' the traitor lord cursed. 'Their sense of timing is rather inconvenient, would you not agree, Jedden?'  
The former War Hound scowled at his lord as he spoke. 'They fight well, for loyalists. If they intended to catch us off guard, then they have succeeded.'  
It was true, the loyalists had struck when the bulk of the warband was clustered around the prow boarding torpedoes.  
The two warriors were contrasts, each showing more gifts of their favoured god than a mortal had any right to.  
Telloch was the larger of the two, made so by his patchwork of armour. The battleplate had been crudelly reinforced, extra plates attached by means of some oily, cancerous growth, which pulsed with were turned brackish by the inflammation of broken veins. Glistening, pulsating welts clustered around the mono-slit eye-lenses of his helm. A great black tongue forked out from behind black-yellow fangs as he spoke.  
Jenneck was more uniform, if only just. His left bare-arm was red, a sheet of burn-tissue covered scars and flensed muscle. The hand was wrapped around a chainsword. His helm was a maze of pistons and barbs. These would in turn link to his butcher's nails.  
'Then Jenneck,' Telloch said. 'I suggest you begin your hunt.'

He watched the crozius fall in a curved arc, its swing was filled with the anger he poured into his hands. He followed irs descent, the fractions of seconds being extended by righteous rage and chem-stimulation. He saw it impact, the wing-headed tip slamming into the carapace-armoured cultists shoulder. The sun-white light as the crozius' energy field snaps to life. Flesh was crushed by the weight and energy, bones broken and charred. The cultist fallback with whimpering cry.  
Blood burst from the savage wound, jetting out only to pool around the dead man's body. He was still whole, if only just. His shoulder was held apart by a few shinous of flesh, the bone was melted, a glue then.  
Garan raised his bolt pistol and fired. Its shudders in his grasp as the mass-reactive rounds it had been sent hurtling through the air. A death followed each flat-thudded explosion. Skulls were turned to mist. Chests blown open. Vertebrate ruined.  
At his side, his brother did battle. Matt-black armour had covered ruby-and-snow, removed of all insignia save red saltires. Kudon, that was his name. His chainsword sent chunks flying as his hand-flamer cleansed the corridor of cultists.  
Kudon had removed his helm. The left-hand side of his face was awash with blood, a crimson river that fell across soot armour and pooled in his greves and joints. One armoured-fist ended in a savage curved claws, the other was drawn tight around his chainsword. Vapour hung about the claws and blood dripped from the blade. Kudon was pure rage, and it washed off of him like lava over earth. His rage was magnificent in its own way. He was howling curses and questions as he killed, caught between the present battle and that of The Siege.  
'Captain!' he roared. 'The gate is lost, the Fists are broken. We can not hold captain. The World Eaters are upon us. Brother… Brother-'  
Then, he fell back, chest-plate a smoking crater. A trail of flame kicked out from an angled alcove. The beam of heat from the multi-melta punched Kudon down to the deck. He dropped his chainsword, it clattered in an angry spiral before it crashed into his damaged greve. Inexplicably, it went in, tearing his meat before choking and breaking on what armour shards were left.  
Garan let out a roar at his brother's death. He charged, brandishing his crozius two-handed. Those who had killed his brother would die knowing who killed them.  
He hurled himself into the mass of cultists. His weapon of office rebounding from cultist to cultist. One by one, they fell dead at his feet. The cultist who had manned the multi-melta broke out into. In one hand he brandished a rusted knife.  
Garan's crozius smashed into his chest and out the other side. Pulping organs and smashing bones as it went. He gripped the lower part of the cultists' body and pulled. With the strength given to him by his primarch, Garan ripped the traitor apart.  
Blood.  
Blood filled his nostrils through his void-sealed armour. The hot coppery fluid filled his senses, making his mouth salivate at the thought of drinking that most delicious drink. Like dark-wine splashing, it came off him.  
Slowly, savering the scent and desire. Garan rose.  
He turned to regard Kudon, he blink-clicked a rune in his helm-up display, marking the dead warrior for recovery. Turning from him, he broke out into a run, words of the Solus Requiem spilling out as he went.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight.**

Daecus ran into the torpedo chamber at the head of his brothers. The rest of Second Squad following closely behind. The chamber was far below the bridge level, towards the prow of the strike cruiser, surrounded by thick adamantium bulkheads and lit by red combat-lumens. Each boarding torpedo lay in holds, tiers and tiers of them hidden behind winches and hooks. At their front, four torpedoes were being lowered into place at the cavernous mouths of the chamber.  
The torpedoes were combat-squad capable. Each one would bear five power-armoured individuals into ship-born fighting.  
Two for Second Squad's survivors and Laernos, two for the Tenth and Marcello. The idea was that Daecus would take four warriors with him, Aremis and Farren, Vulhan and Shalen while Oriax and the Lexicanum took the other surviving Squad Brothers into battle. The same would be true for Tenth as well.  
They would dig into the strike cruiser and wreak havoc whilst Captain Koro Aster would organize a more precise strike.  
'They are minimally guided once deployed,' grated a loading servitor. 'Commend your souls to the Emperor and the Great Angel. Let their wills guide you as you guide your blade.' The small gesture was as much as sincere as was the servitors free will.  
'Daecus, strike deep, brother. If you find him, follow Chaplain Garan's orders to the letter is that understood?'  
'Yes, Brother-Sergeant Oriax.' Daecus made the sign of the aquila as he spoke.  
'Journey well, brother.' Oriax said, his parting words before the vox-depriving torpedo was closed over his torpedo. Locking bolts slid shut with a heavy clunk-clunk.'  
Daecus' own followed shortly after.  
The thrusters behind him keyed, rising quickly to a hollow roar. He heard the grating of his torpedo being loaded aboard its track, followed by the chamber hatches opening then closing behind them before the rush of the engines ignition hit. The torpedo rembled as it sputtered out a correctional burst, still flying at full speed. Daecus could hear Aremis chuckling as his helm-display rattled.  
He could hear point-defence fire pinging from the hull as they closed on their target.  
He braced for the impact, and then it came - a tearing moan of sobbing flesh and rusted iron. The shudder of the melta-beam and traction-claws rattled the Marines and Torpedo to equal levels as they were dragged into the cruiser.  
A second later, and the beam's residue heat had died down and the claws had found a stable enough purchase, locking bolts and sealant-foam went to work locking the torpedo into place. Daecus raised his harness and thumped the torpedoes tip-release mechanism. The torpedo opened up, and he exited followed by his brothers, bringing his better to his shoulder and scanning for traitors.  
They were inside the strike cruiser, somewhere amongst the middle decks if the high gothic designations were anything to go off.  
He led off down the open corridor he and his brothers had found themselves in. When they found a chamber, it was hidden behind a slide door. Aremis cracked it open with a krak grenade set to a delayed timer. The chamber was abandoned save for a few crates of mould. They set on again after that.  
They came to a halt near a transit-way, a mag-lev large enough to hold an upright Land Raider yawning before them. For a moment. Daecus, nor any of his brothers saw anything. Then the Plague Marine came crashing to the deck.  
For a moment, stunned even, Daecus was caught off guard, wondering what could throw a fully armoured Space Marine, let alone a one infested with the rot of Chaos.  
Then came his answer in the form of a black-armoured giant. Its legs were pistons as much as its back was an engine block. Its body was an armoured sarcophagus of black with red saltiers and deaths-head adornment. Its arms were an assault cannon and power fist with an under-slung flamer. Etched in the centre of its body, in clear silver script was a name, _Zorael_.  
Long before Daecus - or any of the Fourth Company - had lived, Zorael had been a renoud warrior-scholar of the Fourth. It had been he who had translated the last work of the poette Marquis du Brava, it had been him that had saved the Reclusiarch Mendrial. An act which had seen him interred in the body of a Dreadnought.  
By all just means, Zorael should have fought and died his second life in sanity.  
But the twin gene curses of the Blood were not kind.  
Now, aboard this strike cruiser, Zorael fought as a warrior of the Death Company.  
'Brother, or traitor?' Hissed his words as his cannon cycled and fist closed and opened.  
'Brothers, great Zorael. Brothers who would unleash havoc amongst these traitors.'  
'Indeed!' Zorael's machine-voice boomed. 'It seems that Mortarion's cur's walk the Warmasters ship now,' So, he had mistaken the cruiser for that accursed vessel of the arch-traitor Horus. 'Then let us cleanse these halls so that the Great Angel may reach Horus unimpeded!'  
Daecus nodded, 'As you command, Zorael.'

**Well, well, well. What do we have here? Death Company Dreadnought and a Tactical Squad. Oh, oh, oh. My "Oh God, Plague God save me," sense is stabbing me in the back. Damn my love for both the IX and the forces of Nurgle. Speaking of Nurgle. Hope everyone is doing well considering coronavirus. So take care and enjoy, until next time.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine.**

Koro Aster looked out over the battle from the bridge of the _Sanguine Fury_. The two battling fleets were equally matched, the _Nine Tears_ was a smouldering wick, as was the craft it had barreled into. The traitor strike cruiser, _Skinner_, was filled with self-sealing holes and boarding torpedoes. The torpedoes had slid through its shields and disgorged their living-cargoes in its armoured flanks.  
'What is the status of the teleportarium?' the captain asked, turning to the Techmarine on the bridge, Kroxis.  
'They are still being calibrated, my captain. Brother Marneus informs me that he is ready to awaken our slumbering Ancients.'  
Aster nodded, he turned to regard the holo-display he had been examining before. 'Raxion, what condition are the Caestus rams in?'  
The strike cruiser's captain seemed to recline in her seat with the question. 'The hanger itself is ready, though Marneus informed me that they would not fly again if used here.'  
'A necessary sacrifice.'  
'Agorix, you and Haegar are to take those rams to the enemies bridge.'  
The First Sergeant nodded and departed.  
'Korbel, take Eight Squad to the teleportarium chamber, I will join you shortly.'  
The young Company Champion departed with an aquila salute over his chest.  
Raxion regarded the young Fourth Captain before she spoke. 'Just what is your plan, lord Aster?'  
'You will see soon enough captain, just bring us in close. And bring down that accursed ships shields.' He said and departed.  
Upon reaching the teleportarium, Koro Aster looked over his brothers one by one.  
'Strike,' he said, taking his position at their head.

The angels in ruby-and-snow appeared out of a maelstrom of purple lightning in the passage before the _Skinners_ bridge. Aster felt sensation drain from his limbs before nausea hit him like a Baneblade. Screams met them as they slammed into reality.  
Brother Thoras, vetrean of two centuries of constant war, was embedded in a greasy wall. He still lived. His entrails had been turned into the swing of a fat little monster of slim and fat. His teeth rotten black stumps pocketed by nests of maggots. His service studs had turned to a web of inflamed veins, connected to the cataracts of his eyes.  
'Brothers,' he gurgled. 'H-how long, how long have I been here? The noise, the carrions call. Please, the carrion calls it mus-' He spoke no further before Haegar crushed his head with his hand.  
'Be at peace now, Thoras. the Emperor knows your name.'  
Daemons, cyclopean horrors of withered stumps and shabby blades greeted the surviving Blood Knights.  
'Forwards,' rallied Aster, firing and moving at the head of his brothers.  
The creatures that met them were the servants of the Plague God, wielding blades that could pass fatal poisons from one host to another before killing all. Even a Space Marine had to be weary of that fact. But they were still weak. Their lanky bodies were held together by stick-thin malnourished joints of mould and muscle. Bodies exploded as bolt-rounds detonated. Chain teeth carved through meat and blood. Flame cleansed the passage of taint.  
When the passage was clear, Aster placed two melta-flasks to the bridge door. 'One minute Korbel,' he said, receiving a nod from the younger warrior.  
The charges on the doors detonated. Melta beams cut through locking mechanisms before blowing forwards, propelling the door into the bridge itself.  
Haegar took the lead then. He and his brothers fired as they advanced. Emaciated crew and mutant bests became shreds of meat under the sustained hail. Aster followed in slowly. His helm displayed locking on a figure in cancerous-armour at the head of six Plague Marines.  
''Greetings, friends,' said the giant. 'I am Telloch, lord of this ship. Are you here to receive the Gifts of Nurgle, or the Fury of Khorne? Perhaps both, no?'  
'Zero,' Aster said and mag-locked himself to the decking.  
The bridges fore imploded as the two Caestus rams hit the bridge. The ramps' hatches burst open and their occupants disbursed after a flurry of melta-beams turned one Plague Marine into a molten puddle.  
Warriors of Maximerio's squad took up positions around the traitors, followed by Agorix who covered the bridge with bolter and flamer. Maximerio's left hand was a lightning claw of an older variety, the claws were instead talons which flexed with the sergeants fingers.  
'I take that as a no,' bluttered the one named Telloch. 'Then may I-'  
Aster silenced him with a bolt-round to the skull. 'Kill them all.'  
Aster brought out his power sword, swinging it down to decapitate the falling hulk of a traitor. Around him, the rest of his battle-brothers were following his example.  
A vox-link opened in his ear as his sergeants and the champion rallied on him. '_Captain_,' came the voice of Garan. '_I have failed you_.'

**Well, this is gonna be one of the last chapters of this fic. Hope you enjoy this and the few following chapters. Take care.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten.**

Garan brought his crozius down in a wide swing, smashing it into the side of a Khorne Bezerker. The crozius lit a second after the impact. The cheek and jaw caved in, gobs of blood and iron teeth flew, flesh cooked. The smell-memory of a Oxide Raptor being cooked coming to the forefront of his mind. The desire to remove his helm and taste the tainted flesh grew. He resisted its dark call.  
The Bezerker fell to the side. His lower part of his face was completely gone. Putting his foot on its ruined war-plate, Garan examined the surrounding chamber. He saw the remains of the last of the Death Company - save Zorael - hung from a hook with traitors around his ruined form. His face was bare, though none of his skin was left. No indication of who he was. Not even the patterns of death on his armour had survived. It was fire-damaged, hiding his identity.  
His legs were mangled stumbs, his hands red-ruins. Eyes run through with his broken eye-lenses.  
'So you grace us with your presence at last,' came a voice from behind the dead warrior. 'Welcome to my hall of death, Death Chaplain.' The warrior's left arm was bare, scar and burn tissue covering it. 'I have been waiting for a god fight. Not these. I thought his kind to Terra. At the Palace. They fought badly then, they fight just the same now.'  
Garan presented his crozius to the traitor and called out, 'Name yourself traitor, so that I might know whose name I add to my tally.'  
'You need not ask, cur. My fight is not with you, but with your lord.' As the traitor spoke, a comm-rune appeared on Garan's display. Koro Aster.  
A bolt hit him just under his neck's soft seals. He was rocked back, into the embrace of two more Berserkers. Blades scratches at his armour. They plunged through, pierced and cooked flesh. Tendons and ligaments were torn. He fell when they abandoned him.  
Struggling, he blink-clinked the comm-rune.  
'Captain,' he said. 'I have failed you.'


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven.**

Daecus raised his bolter. Zorael marched before him and his battle-brothers, bolt-rounds spanking off of his armour.  
The howling Death Company Dreadnought let out a withering hail of fire. Plague Marines and Berserkers were shredded, mutilated and turned to tatters.  
'Onwards, brothers,' Daecus. 'If my auspex is correct, we are close to Brother-Priest Marcello's position. Let us join with him and his Devastators.'  
With a roar of litanies, the Blood Knights advanced deeper into the traitor cruiser.

Koro Aster brought his power sword down two-handed. It cracked open the head of the Berserker. It was a mass of surgical and battle scars, milky beads occupied eye sockets. The blade cut down, splitting him from his crown to his crotch.  
'Aster,' Agorix called over, panting as his eviscerator idlied in his grip. 'Gendus says he has a mass of contacts on auspex, directly ahead of us.' The First Sergeant drew in a ragged breath, he let out a wad of blood-phlegm after that. 'By the Blood, it stinks and they fight as well as gutter-scum. Have we already killed the best of them?'  
Coming to stand besides his sergeant, Aster placed an armoured hand on his shoulder guard. 'Not yet, we still have Garan's killer to contend with.'  
Agorix nodded.  
'Then let us not tarry,' Koro Aster turned to regard his brothers. 'My brothers, we are nearly upon their last. Soon, this battle shall join the walls of the Mausoleum of Sanguine Light. Our dead shall live, not just in the warriors their deaths shall bring, but as immortal names and deeds! So my brothers, to add more deeds, let us end these traitors!'  
With a thunder of approval, the Blood Knights carried on.

Marcello fired the heavy bolter from behind the punctured barricade. Brother Graevian was dead, a well-placed bolt-round had seen too that. He would live on, once Marcello had extracted his progenoids.  
He had linked up with the rest of Tenth Squad, Sergeant Vytrian was fighting in grimm silence, Directing the bolter equipped junior Marines to fire on the smaller and more agile Berserkers, all whilst the heavy weapon bearing Devastators targeted and brought down the Plague Marines.  
'Vytrian,' Marcello said over the din of battle. 'I fear that we underestimated their durability.'  
The Deathwatch vetrean let out a mirthless chuckle. 'Perhaps. No matter, they will die the same as any of their kind do. With a bolt blowing their heads clean off their neck.'  
Suddenly, the Berserkers began to stumble back, roaring and howling with their pistols.  
'Marcello,' Vytrian said, bringing his bolter to his shoulder. 'I believe Garan is dead.'  
A traitor appeared, with his bare arm he brought a matt-black armoured body. Garan.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve.**

Zorael spun in place, his talon-digits digginging into the traitor Dreadnoughts blood caked sarcophagus, the traitor staggered with the impact. The Dreadnought registered the hit, the power of which would have felled an Astartes clad in Terminator armour. But the Dreadnought was more than that. It was broader than Zorael, it had been warped by the dark powers which he had faced before on Signus with his Legion-brothers. Now, in these dark days, it and its kinsmen dared to attack the Throneworld. The ancient warrior discharged his assault cannon and the under-slung flamer into the traitor's torso. Wires, armour plating and flesh were torn, severed and cracked with the hail of fire. Meat cooked, armour shattered.  
More of the traitors came at him and his brothers. Zorael granted them the Emperor's Peace with a sustained burst of fire. Two fell dead, the rest kept up their advance. The dreadnought lumbered forwards and swung its fist about, beating back the traitors with savage blows. 'Into them brother!' he roared over his inbuilt vox-caster. 'I would see them dead before they can desecrate Terra's soil. For the Emperor, for Sanguinius! For Terra and Baal!' Zorael refocused his assault cannon, a new column of tracery fire was born as he cut down another traitor, this one looking like one of Mortarion's corrupted sons.  
'Venerable Zorael,' came the voice of the one known as Daecus. 'Our brother Marcello is this way, rallying with him will give us the numbers needed to end this foul enemy once and for all!'  
'Indeed?' Zorael asked, smacking aside one of the warriors which resembled one of Angron's World Eaters. 'Then lead on, Daecus. Guide me to our brother and victory!'

Laernos brought his hands up, palm open and fingers posed like claws. A Plague Marine came staggering forwards, Brother-Sergeant Oriax had turned its left leg into a mangled stump with a frag grenade. An act which had seen him lose a hand to a bolt-round. A halo of lightning shun about Laernos' head, crackling lightning travelled down from his psychic hood to his hand.  
It coalesced, forming into the shape of a spear. With a grunt, Laernos flung the spear forwards. The spear washed the corridor in blood-red light, sweeping up, into and through the Plague Marines skull. The spear punched through it and travelled a few meters before exploding. The backwash staggered Laernos and his brothers, a few webbing, too-short daemons burst under the force.  
The young battle-psyker felt blood slip down from his nose to his chin, the rich coppery smell trapped by his helm. 'Keep going, brothers. They are becoming less numerous.'  
The remaining warriors accompanying Laernos checked their weapons before continuing.

Korbel cleft the traitor with his power sword, held two-handed. Another traitor came at him, brandishing a pair of combat blades. The blades had less power and range to them than the Champion's power sword. Korbel brought his blade down at a sharp angle, it dug through the traitors shoulder guard and the flesh beneath that. He lashed out again, pulling his augmetic hand from the sword's grip. He slammed it home, smashing eye lenses with his first blow. The second caused him to staggare, the third was for good measure.  
He pushed his sword into the traitor. It punched through the heart, impaling the traitor as it went limp. Korbel pushed the traitor from his blade, bringing it back up again to continue his bloody work.  
Korbel speared a Marine covered in weeping armour sores through the throat with his sword, and hurled a mortal back with a punch to the chest. Many of the enemy had no protection against him and his kin. The bloated Plague Marines had given way to leaner mortals, still covered in all manners of pestilence. The damned came at him and his brothers as a wall of flesh, clogging the ship corridors were their bulk to stop their advance.  
They came at them with makeshift weapons. Hatchets, pipes and a myriad of other tools turned into weapons. Unbelievably, they proved their worth against the Space Marines. Brother Ortan, a sullen faced youth with much to prove, was swallowed by a tide of mortals. They came at him to clog the teeth of his chainsword, jiggly, fatty giants plodding into the teeth with jot filled smiles. When his blade stalled his bolt pistol fell silent shortly after. He struck them with his choked blade and gun-butt.  
Korbal bashed one of the cultists. Tearing into them as Brother Ortan went limp in death. As the last of Ortan's killers fell to the side, he muttered a line from the Book of the Lords.

Koro Aster broke through the cordon of emancipated slaves and maddened Traitor Astartes' with his brothers following close behind. He saw Marcello and the last of Tenth Squads Devastators firing point-blank into the traitor ranks.  
A swarm of black flies enveloped him. His enhanced vision, bolstered by his suits own, could barely penetrate the fog of flies. They crawled over his armour and visor, almost obscuring his brothers that fought before him. He heard the reports from Korbal and Agorix as they penetrated the fog. A warning blinked into life, his power packs vents were being blocked, If that continued, it would overload and shut down, or, at worst, explode.  
'Marcello!' He called out, voice boosted by his suit's vox. The Sanguinary Priest gave the young Fourth Captain a wry smile as he saw him. 'Where fights their leader?'  
'Before us,' Marcello said, pointing at a berserker who was tearing into the Devastators.  
'Shall we gun him down, captain?' asked Agorix, already knowing the answer.  
'No, focus your fire on those warped by their so-called Plague God,' replied Koro Aster, raising his sword in a two-handed manner. 'Their leader is mine!'  
The bloodied traitor turned to Aster, sensing his approach he raised his chainaxe in mock response. 'Come to me pretty angel,' challenged the traitor. 'So I may add your skull to Khorne's Throne.'  
The snarling teeth of the traitor's axe met the captain's sword in a flash of sparks. The power field of the sword activated, shearing the teeth it contacted. The traitor rebounded, clipping Aster's shoulder guard and ripping into it with mangled chain teeth.  
Aster roared as he slammed into the traitor, shoulder down. The traitor was staggered as he growled out, 'Angel! I will make the killing blow a delicate one, I know how your kind marvel beauty.'  
Aster ran into the traitor once more, fueled by the need to bathe in blood.

Laernos closed his hand, pulverising the flesh-helm of the Plague Marine before him. He felled a traitor with a bolt-round through the head. The Plague Marines relic of a helmet ruptured, and he crashed down onto the deck, black vitae staining everything around his remains.  
Another came towards him. His left arm was an exposed pink tentacle which was wrapped around a rust-brown blade. His power plant was crowded by bizarre, makeshift, file-belching bone-vents. His war-plate groaned with the agony of poorly lubricated mechanisms as he lumbered into a charge.  
Laernos ended his efforts with a volley of well-placed bolt shells and psychic flames, that tore off armour plates and immolated tainted flesh.  
The Blood Knights' efforts were yielding a satisfying kill ratio. Now they would have to make the killing blow.

Zorael waddled into the chamber, vox-casters roaring out a bloody challenge as he unleashed himself up the traitors.  
Daecus joined his bolter to the melody of death which his brothers had created. His first bolt-round took a blood crazed Space Marine down to the deck. His second and third had similar effects.  
He saw captain Koro Aster cleve an axe-wielding berserker with a two-handed blow. As the last of the traitors fell to the deck, he stood and watched as the miasma of flies cleared.

The _Sanguine Fury _approached the system mandeville. From the dome Galamedus, Koro Aster looked out and over the assembled, battered ships of the Fourth Company. He saw the Imperial Navy cruiser, a rescue ship would arrive in system, long after the Blood Knights had departed. The surviving crew would have enough permissions to survive until then.  
The hiss of hydraulics alerted him to the arrival of another. He turned to regard the newcomer, Agorix. 'I hear weare to head home,' the first sergeant said. 'I plan to take another pilgrimage, perhaps you would care to join me?'  
'Perhaps, once I have made my report to the Lord Commander. Despite our losses, this battle can still be counted as a victory.' He depressed a rune, opening a vox-link to Racion.  
'Shipmaster, take us home,' he said. 'To Sentika.'

**A long overdue chapter and ending. A bit bad in my opinion. One, perhaps this year, I may start a sequel to this. But until then, I have other stuff for you all. So, with that said, Take Care All.**


End file.
